


The Wedding Planner

by BanimalQ



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, John and Mary's Wedding, John and Sherlock's Wedding, Pining Sherlock, wedding planner Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanimalQ/pseuds/BanimalQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mummy tells a cute story of when Sherlock was a boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding Planner

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little thought I had the other day that wouldn't leave me. I blame all the wedding pics on tumblr. It has entirely too much dialog and not enough to fill it out, but it is what it is.

Sherlock walked into the kitchen to find John giggling, Mycroft simultaneously rolling his eyes and eyeing the pudding, and Mummy clutching her chest.

“What’s all this about?” he asked, looking to John who tried to regain his composure only to start laughing even harder.

“I was just telling John about when you boys were younger. You remember that time you convinced Mycroft to go out on the boat with you and then you threw the oars overboard and he had to swim the boat back to shore! We laughed about that for weeks!” Mummy started laughing as she thought back to that summer day. It put Mycroft in a strop that put even Sherlock’s worst fits to shame. “Myc never did go out on a boat again.”

“Mummy, I’m sure John is not interested in the tales of our youth,” Mycroft huffed.

“Oh, no, tell me more! These two never tell me anything!” John insisted.

Sherlock turned to leave the kitchen, he had no interest in reliving moments Mummy found amusing from his childhood. He had done his best to delete most of it.

“Oh! Did you know when Sherlock was little he considered himself to be somewhat of an event planner? He used to love helping me plan little teas and the Christmas dinner party,” started Mummy. Sherlock turned quickly.

“That’s quite enough, Mummy. No need to bring up my old hobbies too. Shall I reminisce about the drugs?” asked Sherlock.

“Come now, dearest, it was sweet. Why one summer he even planned out —“

“That’s enough!” Sherlock interrupted.

“Tell me, what event did The Great Sherlock Holmes plan out? A science fair? Maybe a celebration of the greatest unsolved murder?” A fond smile spread across John’s face as he looked between Sherlock and Mummy.

“Please don’t,” Sherlock begged quietly.

“Nonsense, Sherlock. Just because you have chosen to lead a solitary life doesn’t mean that your dreams then were childish. It was completely normal,” she reassured with a pat to Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock lowered his head and steeled himself for the revelation Mummy was about to make.

“No, nothing like that, John. One summer Sherlock planned out his entire wedding, right down to the last detail of how the serviettes were going to be folded! He spent a week folding every piece of linen in the house until he decided that he preferred the look of the opera house fold. For years each Easter dinner he would fold the napkins like that, until someone convinced him he was being sentimental,” she said with a pointed look to Mycroft.

John sobered quickly and looked to Sherlock, who was still cataloging the patterns in the wood grain of the table. A thousand thoughts raced through John’s mind, until one settled.

_Sherlock sitting on the floor of the sitting room, surrounded by a sea of serviettes, folded into mini replicas of the Sydney Opera House._

“And the flowers! Sherlock always had a fondness for my flower garden, it was the bees I think really. He would take cuttings and make bouquets, boutonnieres and centerpieces. My friends always complimented me on the flowers in the house that summer. He even created a pretty little headpiece, though we all knew even back then Sherlock wouldn’t be one to have a bride,” Mummy said with a smile and a wink.

John felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Mycroft had gone unusually silent, fidgeting slightly in his seat. Sherlock finally looked up and met John’s eyes.

“Would you like to know more, John?” he asked, his tone icy. “I’m sure even you can deduce, I’ve always been partial to purple. I thought for a summer wedding that shades of lilac and violet would be best. I thought the bridesmaids would wear lavender with a darker purple for accent. It would be quite stunning, don’t you think? Set against the white and spring green of the flowers?”

The tension was thick in the room. Though Mummy did not know what was going on she knew enough to stop speaking. Mycroft stood and took her arm, steering her towards the door.

“Let’s check on Father, shall we?” he asked with his usual blasé smile.

When they were finally alone John stood and closed the distance to Sherlock.

“My partner and I would stick to traditional wedding attire. I had always fancied wearing a top hat, too. I thought it would make me look distinguished. I had even decided that on such an important day I would wear a tie, even at a young age I disliked those hateful things.”

John reached out his hand but pulled it back before he touched the other man.

“Sherlock,” he started. He struggled for what to say in response, words stuck in his throat, unable to be voiced. But what could he say? His best friend was telling him that the wedding he had helped plan had been his childhood dream. That it was a day he had envisioned for himself and the person he loved.

“Now finding the venue was a bit more tricky,” interrupted Sherlock. “There’s only so far a ten year old could ride his bicycle to in one day. Fortunately Mummy was a guest lecturer at a university that summer. It had the most beautiful chapel and reception hall. I knew the moment I saw it that it was the location I had been dreaming of all along. Windows lined the length of the southern wall to let in the afternoon sun. The reception hall was perfect for dinner and dancing, cliche, but I have always loved to dance.”

“Please, Sherlock, stop,” John begged. Though he couldn’t bear to hear any more, he knew it must be even more painful for Sherlock to say aloud.

“Oh, but I’ve just gotten to the best part! Mummy was quite right in saying I accounted for every detail. I had files filled with notes and samples. I even composed a waltz for the occasion. It was quite simple, but then again I was just ten years old. I’m sure you’ll remember the tune,” Sherlock said, venom dripping from each word.

“Sherlock, I’m sor—“ John tried to start again.

“No, don’t, John. This has already been humiliating enough for me without you adding to it. If you had the mental capacity I would ask that you delete this conversation. As I know that is not a request that can be granted I just ask that you not speak of it again.”

Sherlock had pulled himself to his full height, his chin lifted slightly. John could see him assembling his armor before his eyes. The mask of haughty indifference he wore in public firmly in place.

If only things had gone different that first night at Angelo’s. If only Sherlock hadn’t gone away. If only . . .

With a sigh John nodded his head.

“Thank you. If anyone needs me I’ll be in the garden,” Sherlock said, not making eye contact.

Sherlock walked through the back door. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and placed one between his lips. He had thirty minutes to delete that conversation. He hoped he would succeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Where I [blog](https://fanlock.wordpress.com) quite terribly and my pathetic attempt to use [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sosickyetsobeautiful)


End file.
